


Just A Little More Pressure

by finstocksimaginaryfriend



Series: Blue-black red [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Death, Gen, POV Third Person, Panic Attacks, The death is witnessed from outside, Trauma, Violence, and the trauma is from the violence which leads to panic attacks, not first hand if that makes sense, the oc is the bad guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 04:59:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finstocksimaginaryfriend/pseuds/finstocksimaginaryfriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been a long time coming. Surprise it’s taken so long really. Stiles shouldn’t be as shocked as he is. But then again he doesn’t always react the way he thinks he should.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just A Little More Pressure

It’s been a long time coming. Surprise it’s taken so long really. Stiles shouldn’t be as shocked as he is. After all, he’d come so close _so many_ times. Hadn’t really noticed that he was still clean; is sure no one else realises he hasn’t done this before.

But now there’s blood on his hands.

Dripping a trail up his arm. It’s everywhere. The floor the ceiling his clothes his face _her_ face everything is _redredredohgodthat’sblood_.

Usually he leaves the dirty work to the wolves. Sure he had helped set fire to Peter that one time but it hadn’t finished the job. Perhaps that’s worse though? Hurting a person beyond repair and leaving them to watch their own nephew, the last of the blood, rip out their throat? Perhaps. And, sure, he’d run over Jackson but that was just to slow him down for Lydia to save. Overall his hands are relatively clean. Were relatively clean. There’s always a scapegoat or it’s for the victims own benefit. But now, _now_ , he’s pulled the final trigger.

Stiles has always done what he has to do. That’s normal. He shouldn’t be so distressed; it just took a little more direct action this time.

Just a little more pressure on the trigger.

A better aim.

More precise cut with the knife.

Just a littler louder exhalation.

Just a little quieter come down from the pain.

* * *

 

She had Erica and Boyd. Tied up and beaten and filled to the brim with Wolfsbane. He didn’t need superhuman hearing to make out their whimpers through the wall. The plan had been a good one. Of course it had, he’d come up with it. But they didn’t account for a Werewolf setting Mountain Ash and Wolfsbane traps.

Stiles was, as the resident human, to go in first. He was supossed to lure the Werewolf girl (Werewolfess? Werebitch? Shewerewolf? _There’s a Shewolf in the closet…_ ) into a trap, where he’d have already set up the most part of a Mountain Ash barrier.

* * *

She had been out shopping, because even crazy Werewolves get grumpy when they run out of Cheerios apparently, and Isaac had passed right in front of her. Then he’d run; and her simple little beta-mind had taken chase.

The alphas had been smart putting Erica and Boyd in the care of a beta a couple towns over. It was far enough that Derek couldn’t locate them and it meant they didn’t need any of the battlefront on babysitting duty.

The girl was supossed to deliver the last blow to Derek and join their ranks.

But Stiles wasn’t just the researcher because as a human he had no other use – he was actually good at it and though it took a while to track down where the little ones were being stowed, he finally succeeded.

* * *

 

Since Isaac somehow learnt stealth when no one was looking, and really that was a surprise because he’s almost as gangly as Stiles is, it seemed appropriate that he crossed the betas path. Then he was fast enough to run away, leading her close enough to her lair that she’d hear Stiles stumbling about inside.

‘You won’t even have to try to make her notice you,’ Peter had laughed.

Then the pack starts to close in from the opposite side. Stiles has all but a foot of the room enclosed in Mountain Ash, an open door behind him leading on to the room where Erica and Boyd are being held. His offer to just go in and free them had been vetoed given that the room is probably dangerous and if, like the last time those three were together with the two betas tied up, he couldn’t free them he would just end up as another hostage they’d need to save. However, as the only one able to use Mountain Ash (Lydia seeming to have a strange semi-immunity with it wherein only fifty percent of the time it actually works and Allison, though back in the pack, is not allowed anywhere near the stuff for left over trust issues they’re still smoothing out) they couldn’t reject plan b.

* * *

 

So here he is with the last couple of grains in his hand as the girl enters and _why hasn’t Derek jumped in yet_. Derek is supossed to get trapped too and kill the girl. _Oh god where is he?_

‘Um hi…’ He rattles his head for a name and grins, ‘Stacy. Just trying to save my friends, if you just give me a few moments and I’ll be on my way…’

‘They wouldn’t send the human alone.’ She hisses, coming into the centre of the garage and, seriously, who chooses a garage as a lair?

Stacy’s smaller than he had expected. About Derek’s age but slight and short with cropped brown hair. _She looks like me_ , he thinks. Same jeans and layered t-shirt with plaid, big brown eyes and a stupid little pink cupid bow of a mouth. They probably did that on purpose, what with the Alphas being the manipulative little bitches they are.  

‘I didn’t tell them.’ He sticks his chin in the air and tries to stop thinking of her as his female-wolf-counterpart.

‘Lying, you’re lying. Can’t lie to me Stiles.’ Her claws slip out and she takes a step forward, head cocked to one side. ‘I hear a little wolf in my trap. Another one’s outside it trying to break him free. Now, if you would step to the side I’ll let you go, the others are quite enamoured with you.’ She all but purrs and the smirk she’s fixing him with as her eyes travel from his head to his feet and back again reminds him of the look the betas get when they’re hungry and he rolls up with take-out pizzas.

 _DerekDerekDerekDerekDerek, where the fuck are you? Ohgodohshitohno._ ‘No can do, sorry. I kind of want the whole pack to return alive and you getting out of this room doesn’t really feature in my epic plan.’

And it dawns on him he has to shut the circle. He has to shut the circle and Derek won’t be able to get in and she’s going to go for him the moment he does.

‘What are you…’ She starts to snarl as the dust once again falls and she leaps as the circle closes, pulling him with human hands in to the centre of the room. ‘You should really break that circle, Stiles.’ She growls in his ear, pressed up far too close and he never thought he’d be glad for all those times Derek had trespassed into his personal space growling at him, because he barely even flinches.

When he doesn’t make a move she kicks the switch that closes the metal door of the garage, letting it roll slowly down accompanied by a sound like nails on a blackboard, and well, that door doesn’t open from inside without a key that he sure as hell doesn’t have and he’s pretty sure she doesn’t either given that she’s always left it open. Slowly he tries to inch over to the through-door so he can get out of the Mountain Ash and away from Stacy but she’s back. Her hand firmly against his neck in the same gesture Derek uses to calm the betas and Stiles is shuddering from the thought as he’s thrown across the room, head hitting a corner of a desk and blood trickling down his scalp. Then she’s putting her hand under a car _and fucking dragging it to cover the doorway._ And shit, he’s so dead. Never in a million years did Stiles think he’d die trapped in a garage with a door - _oh god she picked it up and stood it on its bonnet how strong is she?-_ blocked by a car and a crazy Werewolf bitch turning him inside-out like a glove.

He’s weighed down with weapons.

The pack had insisted he had a battalion worth of weapons just in case. For emergency use only and Derek isn’t inside with him to keep him alive. Oh god this is an emergency if he’s never been in one before and he’s been in plenty, he should know what they look like. But Stacy is a Werewolf with Werewolf claws and Werewolf fangs and mega Werewolf strength. With super Werewolf healing powers and a level up just waiting on her smallest command to shift and, oh, there’s the shift.

 _I’m just the useless human omega_ he whimpers to himself as she spins to snarl at him and if he’d ever before considered it, he’s never accepting the bite now because he never in a millions years wants to look like that.

Stacy’s coming towards him again, down on all fours and stalking, a hand outstretched. Claws dig into his ankle and she pulls him towards her until she’s knelt above him. Telling him to let her out and when he shakes his head she punches. His face vibrates with the force and his vision blurs. Taking the back of his head, covering the wound and sending gut wrenching pain buzzing down his nervous system, she pulls him closer and asks again.

‘Are you going to let me out or are we going to have to play a little first?’ She brings her hand up to her lips and licks away his blood. ‘I’ll try and keep you alive but I can’t promise anything. Perhaps I’ll just make you beg for death. Why’s a human like you doing all this for a ragtag group of Weres anyway?’

‘Why’s a head strong girl like you doing all this for a fucked up bunch of Alpha’s anyway?’ He spits back, making her chuckle and stand up just for her to kick him in the gut.

Twisting up he pulls a silver knife from his trouser leg and holds it out towards her.

‘Silver, fancy, I’ve got to admit you know your stuff. Silver’s a bitch to heal. _Catch me if you can_.’

And he does. He does catch her. He lurches forward and stabs into her shoulder and she doesn’t manage to avoid fast enough. The outraged confusion on her face is almost worth the slashes down his arm he receives for his efforts. _Almost._

‘What. Did. You. Do. _What did you do?_ ’ Her scream echoes, bouncing off every wall - shrill against the metal.

‘Been eating boiled Rowan berries everyday for over a week now; I’m glad it worked because that stuff tastes vile.’ He explains and she glares, eyes flashing. ‘I’ve been injecting it regularly too. I pretty much run on the stuff now.’

* * *

 

Peter had come up with the idea. Hated to credit the guy, but it was the truth. Peter had come to Stiles’ house (and used the door, hallelujah!) with a little plastic bag of the stuff. It was like some sleazy drug deal taking place under the Sheriffs own roof, but Peter had explain that if Stiles kept taking it he might eventually smell like the herb and rogue wolves might stay away and Stiles had to admit, its perks outweighed its cons. Stiles had been the one to point out that he could probably get blood in a wolfs mouth too, seemingly overconfident but hey it worked.

* * *

 

Next moment he pulls out the gun from his waistband and he hates that he knows enough about human biology to know that the Wolfsbane-bullet has just pierced her small-intestine.

‘That’s for the betas.’ He snarls his lips curling back as Stacy crumples to the floor, hands holding her stomach.

‘This is for Derek.’ He jerks the knife out of her shoulder, drives it back in a couple of times for good measure and kicks her bullet wound.

‘And this is for me.’ Stiles whispers as he reaches out to his left and picks up a crowbar, bringing it down onto her head again and again with sickening cracks as she bleeds out until he’s sure she won’t be getting back up.

Licking the blood from his lips the crowbar clatters to the floor and he’s left staring at her. At the girl that looked so much like him. Covered in her own blood and dead at his feet. _I did that_ he thinks, feeling somewhat detached. Then it all comes crashing down and his heart’s running double, no triple, and his breath is getting stuck in his throat and his lungs are burning and his vision’s blackening. _Shitshitshit that’s an awful lot of bloodfuckIdidthat._

In some corner of his mind he becomes aware that the pack are shouting about him outside and trying to get him out, but the wolves can’t touch the car through the magic barrier and the humans are too weak. And yeah, maybe he’s freaking out a little. Because there’s so much blood. And he has just killed a girl barely older than himself. So he thinks he’s allowed to panic a little. Ok, a lot.

But then he’s hearing that Lydia is hurt and he can hear Allison talking to Scott about getting him some bandages because even if he’s a Werewolf that’s a lot of blood. Erica and Boyd are coughing and he can hear Isaacs little whimpers and imagines him curled around his pack mates. Peter seems to be taking control and, oh, that’s Derek freaking out that Stiles got stuck in a room with a Werewolf and without any of the pack. Vaguely he remembers that no one can tell if he’s alright because the barrier is obscuring their senses. Suddenly they’re all running up to the wall and Scott is shouting at Derek, and Lydia is screaming that they have to get in.

Stiles is meant to be strong. He has to be strong for Scott, for Erica and Boyd who need a freak out more than him; for the humans and for his alpha. So he breaks the circle and then Derek’s there and Peter of all people bursts in after him with his claws out, and Allison has an arrow notched but is standing back still, hand against Scott to stop him moving and, yeah, that’s a lot of blood. Lydia’s in front of the two older wolves holding a gun _and fuck that’s bad she hates guns_ and looking absolutely wrecked. Within seconds he’s in a bone crushing hug, red hair getting in his mouth and sticking to the blood on his cheek until ginger and red become indistinguishable. After checking that Stacy is really…Derek comes to lay a hand on Stiles’ shoulder and ask if he’s alright. Stiles just nods, the lie tasting metallic in his mouth.

* * *

 

Peter goes back to command mode and Derek growls it’s not his place. Allison takes Scott after he sees that Stiles is alive and fine; she’s telling him off and instructing him to be more careful as they head out. Derek has the three cubs in the back of the Camaro and Stiles doubts he’ll be letting them out of his sight anytime soon. Peter and Lydia stay to clean up and Stiles gets into the jeep after a quick bandage job by Lydia and instructions to visit Deaton come morning.

* * *

 

He’s barely a mile out of town when he has to swerve to the side of the road and hit the breaks, making the jeep groan. Falling forwards he lets his head rest on the wheel and the horn screeches out. There are drums pounding under his ribs and explosions going off in his head and everything is too loud and too fast. Above the insistent honking of the horn he can make out the occasional car whizzing past as fast as planes and the wind running through the trees at a hundred miles an hour. His throat starts to feel like he’s been eating sand-paper and he realises he’s been screaming along with all the sound. Lifting his head he can see the water-splashes on his trousers and when he lifts a hand to his face it comes back both seasoned in blood and salt.

* * *

 

Somehow he makes it back home and into the shower but, when he catches sight of his reflection, has a third panic attack so potent he almost passes out.

He’s sitting on the end of his bed, his head in his hands and chest still tight as is finally dawns on him:

_Nobody’s coming._

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://finstocksimaginaryfriend.tumblr.com/)


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